“Yeah,” Coules said. “It’s evidence that-”

“It’s air,” he said, pushing Lassiter out of his way and pressing his face up against the wall.

“How about you, Spencer?” Coules said. “Any psychic visions to tell you what happened here?”

Shawn halfheartedly raised his hands to his head, then dropped them again. “If spirits liked hanging around this kind of stench, they would never have left their bodies in the first place.”

Coules walked over to the counter. “You don’t think so? Maybe they’ll talk to me.” He pressed his index fingers to his forehead and winced. “Ooh, ooh, I feel it. I’m getting a vibe. I’m getting a feeling.”

Shawn turned to Gus, a troubled frown on his face. “Is that really what I look like?”

“Yes, that is the thing that bothers me the most right now,” Gus said, turning his attention back to the air holes.

“What’s that, spirits?” Coules said, dropping his hands away from his face. “Someone came in here. He was angry. Maybe he was angry because his car had been towed. He was yelling, maybe even threatening the attendant.”

“That’s not how it works,” Shawn said. “You’re just making this stuff up.”

“Yes, but the difference is I’m doing it based on the evidence. The victim felt threatened and pulled out his weapon, a shotgun he kept under the counter. His first shot was a warning. That’s the one that put the holes in the wall.”

“God bless him for that,” Gus said from his spot by the wall. He’d never felt so grateful to someone who’d tried to kill him.

“But the killer wasn’t scared off,” O’Hara said. “In fact, he attacked. I’d guess he leapt over the counter and knocked the victim off his feet.”

Lassiter pointed up at the ceiling. “That’s when the second shot went off. The gun was now empty, and the killer grabbed it and threw it away. Then he bent down and savagely twisted the victim’s neck, killing him.”